The Boho Band
by StandByMe4ever787
Summary: Simple: The Bohemians form a band! Will they be loved or hated? Will stardom, fame, and wealth obscure their group morals of No Day But Today and Love Heals? PostRENT, everything that happened stays the same, except Angel lives! AU


A/N: Hey guys! Well, things have been very rough and very hard on my end, so I decided to write something fluffy (usually not my writing style, but what the hey). It's just a cutesy little story that isn't much, can be continued if you wish, but I guess it can work on its on if it doesn't get good reviews. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Jonathon Larson's, yes?

None of them had any idea why Roger called a meeting, not even Mimi or Mark. All they knew was that Roger had something important to tell them, and he had sounded rather excited.

The other seven bohemians seated themselves in various places around the loft, waiting for Roger to arrive. Angel sat in Collins' lap, her arms around his neck. She whispered something in his ear, although rather unsuccessfully and loudly: Angel wasn't that a great of a whisperer. But luckily, she said it in Spanish, and only Mimi and Collins laughed. Maureen had her head on Joanne's shoulder, Joanne holding Maureen's hand.

Benny was sitting up straight in a chair near them, a half-smile adorning his sleek and handsome face. A few weeks back, Mark, Roger, and Mimi had heard sharp knocks on the loft door. They had opened it to discover Benny, holding numerous suitcases and sobbing uncontrollably. According to the ex-businessman, he had a thing for the Catscratch dancers. Mimi insisted that Benny stay with them, infuriating Roger and even Mark. But in the end, the rest of the Bohemians learned to trust Benny again.

Earlier that day, Mimi had found a pack of Gel pens on the street. Quite excited by the fact that she would finally get to have a pack (apparently all little girls had them), she opened them the minute they got to the loft and was doodling daintily on Mark's hand in pink and blue.

"Ta-da!" Mimi exclaimed, "My masterpiece is complete!"

Mark glanced at his now colorful hand.

"Cool. I like pink and blue squiggles too," he commented unenthusiastically.

"No, dipshit, it's an elephant."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Yeah, you should be."

Suddenly, the loft door slid opened to reveal the musically inclined Bohemian. He glided into the loft, a Cheshire cat grin on his raggedly handsome face. His dark green eyes shined from the light, mischievousness in his glances around the room. The rest of the Bohemians were silent. What was their friend up to?

"Hey guys," Roger greeted happily, stopping in front of his friends, "What's up?"

"Oh not much, honey," Angel replied just as gleefully, probably excited by the fact that Roger was so pleasant, "Just laughing it up and having a good time. How are you?"

"You know what," Maureen interrupted, standing up, "Enough introductions, we know what we do in each others' lives, there's no point. Yes, I'm growing very impatient. So Roger, why don't you just tell us the 'very important' thing you have to say?"

"Fine," Roger agreed tiredly, "Right. Ok."

Silence.

"Well? Spit it out, boy," Collins egged on.

"My band broke up," Roger announced cheerfully.

Maureen gasped, Collins and Benny shook their heads, Angel and Joanne cooed, and both Mark and Mimi made a move to go comfort him.

"Baby, I'm so sorry!" Mimi consoled him, petting his arm, "You must feel terrible."

"Not really," Roger admitted, smiling brightly and slinging his arm over Mimi's shoulder, "Actually, I don't think I've felt this great since I met you."

"Wanna give an explanation of some sort?" Mark asked his friend jokingly.

"Well," Roger started, "I just finished writing a new song since 'Your Eyes'. And I think it has potential. So, through the various ties I have, and with Benny's help, we're scheduled to go record the song Friday night at Footlight Records."

"This is so exciting!"

"Roger, I'm so happy for you!"

"You finally get to record one of your songs!"

"Congratulations, man!"

"Benny, you knew?"

"Sorry. Roger wanted me to keep it a secret."

"Wait a sec, Rog. Did you say _we're _scheduled to go record the song?"

Everyone froze to look at the musician. He smiled sheepishly back.

"Yeah, about that," he continued, "The song isn't really for one person to sing. And since I don't have my band anymore and it's really not our (their) usual style….I thought maybe you guys could try it out? Come on, I know some of you guys can sing."

"No. Way."

"I can't sing!"

"Rog, you're the only person here who can!"

"Hey! That's not true!" Roger disagreed, putting his hands up, "Maureen can sing very well."

All eyes were on the performer.

"Really?" Maureen asked, although she sounded as if she agreed with her friend.

"Absolutely! Not only that, but you've got a great ear," Roger answered, and then pulled scraps of paper out of his jean pocket.

He straightened one out and handed it to her. "Here, repeat this line after me: '_Like a breath of midnight air, like a lighthouse, like a prayer'_."

Maureen sang softly immediately following Roger, "_Like a breath of midnight air, like a lighthouse, like a prayer_."

"Yes!" the musician shouted, kissing her cheek, "That's perfect! You stick with that line. Who's next?"

"Ooh, I wanna try!" Angel exclaimed, striding towards Roger.

"Sure," her friend agreed, handing the paper Maureen was holding to Roger, "And I know you can read notes and know the pitch. So just belt it, baby."

"Oh, I will," she replied, bumping him with her hip, "Hmm, let's see….. '_Like the flicker and the flare the sky reveals_."

"Whoa!" Mark called.

"Isn't she amazing?" Collins asked rhetorically, his eyes on his lover.

"Angel! I didn't know you could sing so well!" Joanne claimed.

"I bet you didn't know that _you _could sing," Roger told her triumphantly.

"Me? No. I don't sing."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"_No_, I don't."

"Ah, come on Pookie!" Maureen encouraged, leaning in to kiss Joanne, "I've heard you sing in the shower: you're great!"

"…Fine," Joanne answered hesitantly, probably only because of Maureen, "What part do you want me to sing?"

* * *

"Can we _please _rest?" Mark begged, clutching his best friend's pants as he groveled on the wooden floor, "I beg of you!"

"Mark, get up," Roger ordered, rolling his eyes, "Yes, a three minute break."

"Five," Angel countered.

"Three."

"Five."

"Three."

"Five."

"Four."

"Five."

"Four."

"Five."

"Five."

"Five it is!" Angel agreed, shaking hands with the songwriter.

"Are you always this perky at two in the morning?" Benny asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Try living with her," Collins remarked, stretching out in the beat up recliner chair.

"Rog, we're leaving," Joanne informed, a half-awake Maureen attached to her side, her head lolling on Joanne's shoulder, "We're beat, and we're going to need some rest if we're going to practice tomorrow too."

Maureen snored loudly and dramatically for effect.

Roger huffed, "Fine, I guess you can go—"

"Haha, _suckers_!" Maureen called as she and her lover stepped out of the loft, the door sliding shut.

"But the rest of you are staying," the musician continued, "Now, where were we?"

"It hasn't been five minutes yet," the filmmaker notified quickly.

"How do you know?" Roger growled, "We don't have a clock in this whole damn loft."

A small tick went off.

Benny held up his wrist with a grin, where a golden Rolex was in place.

"Screw you," Roger snapped.

"Baby, please, can't we just call it a night?" Mimi asked tiredly, "We've been working hard here. Joanne was right: we're going to need some rest."

"Alright," Roger moodily agreed, sitting on the couch next to his lover, "….Ten minute break."

The rest of the Bohemians groaned. Since when did Roger become a control freak?

Silence filled the room, until Angel started up a tune of her own.

"_These boots are made for walkin', and that's just what they'll do. One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you!_"

"Angel."

"Si?"

"Ten minute break."

"Oh yeah, sorry."

…………………

"_You keep saying you've got something for me. Something you call love, but confess._"

"Meems…."

"Sorry."

……………….

"……._Are you ready boots? Start walkin'!_"

"MARK!"

"Hey, it's not my fault it's a catchy song!" Mark protested.

"Yeah, but its plain weird when you sing it," Collins told him honestly.

"Why?"

"Do you normally wear boots, Marcus?" Benny asked calmly.

"Uh…no."

"We do," Angel added with a smile, motioning to herself and Mimi.

"Therefore, it gives us insight to believe that you, Mark Phineas Cohen, are gay," Collins concluded with a smirk.

"I am not gay!" Mark objected hurriedly, "It's just a catchy song!"

"Ha, your middle name is Phineas?" Angel questioned giggly.

"_No_, it's not! Jesus, Collins, you're hurting my self-esteem!"

"Shh, guys, listen!" Mimi quieted them down.

Deafening snores were heard from the couch.

"Oh thank God!" Angel muttered under her breath, her hands clasped in prayer.

"No wonder there were no snide comments from Roger about the boot thing," Benny remarked.

"Yeah," Collins agreed, "Roger's lived with Mark the longest, he'd be able to confirm on the gay issue. I'm sure Mark's tried to hit on Roger a good few times…"

"You're making me sick," Mimi told him, holding her stomach but smiling.

"I'M NOT GAY!"

"Shut up!" the others whispered.

"Now's your chance," Benny motioned to Collins and Angel, "Quick, before he wakes up."

"Buenos Noches, mi amigos!" Angel murmured to her friends as she and Collins left.

Mark and Benny slipped into their respective rooms, leaving Mimi alone with the slumbering Roger.

She stroked her lover's mane of dirty blonde curls and studied his unshaven, devilishly handsome face. God, she loved him more than anything else. He had helped her through so much: withdrawal, disease. If it hadn't of been for Roger, Mimi was positive that she would have died shortly after her near-death experience. But with Roger's (and of course, the other Bohemians') tender love and care, she was pampered, spoiled, and nursed back to as much health as was physically possible in a few months. She breathed in her lover's scent of leather, cigarettes, and peppermints. She chuckled lowly: Roger didn't look like the type of guy who would be a sucker for peppermints.

Then again, Mimi realized, Roger didn't look like many things. He didn't look like an ex-junkie. He didn't look like he was HIV positive. He didn't look like the type of person who would care about someone or something so passionately, treasuring them for his whole lifetime.

No, Roger looked like the kind of guy who would break a girl's heart: the charming, cocky, smug, egotistical, tattooed, one night stand rock star. Yes, he had probably been that type of guy, and Mimi knew that part of him was still inside: clichés never died. But somewhere along the line, her boyfriend must have changed. She didn't know much about his past, and she never really thought to question him about it. Why should she? The past didn't matter, all that mattered was here, the present. And besides, he never asked her about her past.

Mimi didn't want to go back down that road anyway. Her past was blotted with losses, murders, rapes, disappointments, setbacks, and addictions, scarring her for life. She knew living was a struggle, but ever since that first Life Support meeting, she started to enjoy it as she struggled. In a way, she was enjoying the struggle.

As the lyrics to Roger's new song floated through her mind, mingled with the experiences of her past, she knew his words were the absolute truth. _Love heals_. Love healed her past. It heals the present, she realized, and it will continue to heal in the future. Love in different forms got her through everything that troubled her. The love she got from her mother, the love she got from Angel, Mark, Collins, Joanne, Benny, and Maureen. The love she received from Roger. It healed everything in good time. As long as Roger was there loving her, stroking her hair, hugging her, kissing her, whispering things in her ear, taking care of her, walking in the park with her, laughing with her, partying with her, playing Your Eyes for her. As long as Roger was there, in body, soul, and spirit, she knew that she would heal.

Mimi stretched out on top of Roger, not taking care as to where she put pressure. In the process, she leaned her forehead against his, and her hands roamed his shoulders.

A groan surfaced.

"Meems, that's my—"

"Roger," Mimi murmured softly, her hands tightly around his neck.

"Mhm?"

"I love you," she whispered into his ear and then lightly kissed it.

Roger looked up into Mimi's dazzling brown hues. Someone could lie straight through their teeth, someone could physically trick you, but no matter what, eyes always told the truth. And he couldn't see anything but love and admiration in the form of the color brown. It clicked in his head: _she understands the words_……

"I love you too, Mimi."


End file.
